Control
by FluffleNeCharka
Summary: Paul is breaking down, going from angry to outright insane. And thinking back on his life and mistakes, oddly enough, the only thing keeping him from going over the edge is... Brock. Hollowshipping, slash, oneshot. T for swearing and attempted suicide.


AN: Written in about thirty minutes, out of sudden inspiration. I wanted to flesh out Paul a bit more, and besides, hardly anyone writes this couple. So, there you go.

* * *

I've lost control of my insanity.

I've always had these problems. Violent outbursts, screaming insults, snapping at people in five seconds flat. I've always been messed up, always the mentally ill burden on my family. That's why I ran away when I was eight to start my journey early. No one wanted someone like me hanging around. Who could blame them? I'm pathetic, the way I give in to my anger constantly. I've always been messed up, though, so I've accepted that I don't have a choice in the matter anymore. That's just how I am. There's no reason, no defining moment where it all started. No tragic backstory here - just ask my brother, and you'll know that our family was the best place growing up we ever could've asked for.

I was just born insane.

And I've only gotten worse as time has gone on. I tried to fix myself at first. I thought I could make it all better with power, with wealth and fame. I craved it, craved my name to known everywhere. I still wish I could be the best Master in the world. My dreams didn't exactly come true, though. I failed. Everyone seemed to be one up on me, as if there was some kind of secret to being a Trainer they knew and I didn't. It ate at me, made me hate myself. Hate the world. I went after my dreams, and became someone I didn't recognize. Someone who was always angry, always cruel. I knew then that there was something wrong.

I thought I could fix myself with relationships. I thought I could make myself love, and once I loved I wouldn't be so angry anymore. That's why I dated who I dated. Lance. Steven. Wallace. I thought they'd fill that void in me, somehow fix my broken heart with their half assed poetry and kisses. I thought somehow, sex and stalkery - the basics of all relationsips - were going to save me from myself. But they all dumped me, found someone better. I'll always be the second choice, the backup plan. No one actually wants me, they just settle for me. I don't even want me. I know I'm just everyone's last resort. And how could I be anything else, with my meager badges and weak Pokemon? Thus I learned early on that I was incapable of love. I was nothing more than a toy for any guy who had no standards - and he had to have no standards, to go for me. My jealousy and my rage grew within me. I was nothing more than a slave to hatred, and they all knew it. That's why they never really gave a damn about me. I hate everyone, everything. I hate love. I hate myself. And I hate myself for ever trusting and loving anyone.

I wonder what the hell people see when they look at me. A vicious, arrogant punk? Good. That's great, actually, and exactly what they should think. That way I can't rip through them like I did everyone I ever tried to love. If I can keep everyone nice and far away, they won't realize what a sick, twisted person I am. They won't see the dark places my mind goes. They won't ever see how depressed I am, how often I think about ending it all, because my reputation will keep them away. No one wants to be near me. I've painted myself more insanely angry than I could ever actually be, more arrogant than I ever dreamed of. No one should ever have looked beyond that and questioned what caused me to snap in the first place. I wonder if that idea even crossed any of their minds? I wonder if any of them have ever looked at me, and ever thought that maybe there's a person beneath this insanity.

Everyone hates me.

Yet he still wouldn't leave me alone, wouldn't hate me like everyone else. That idiot, that absolute moron. If there was one thing I learned from my past relationships, it was that I was too far gone to be saved. Yet even when Ash quit trying to be nice to me, even when Dawn screamed and raved at me, he never got it. He never realized what a jerk I am. Maybe he just chose not to, I don't know. But he was so polite, so calm, so wonderfully stable that my insane little heart fell for him in a heartbeat. He can't feel hate. He doesn't know what that means. The closest he's ever gotten is righteous anger, but never hate. He'd never hurt me, I can see it in him. He couldn't ever really hurt anyone, not under my definition of hurt. He could never rip out my heart and leave to pick myself up. He doesn't hate me like that.

I hate it. I hate liking him, liking who he is. He just catches me off guard so often, gets past that fuck-the-world exterior I've put up. If I knew how he did it, I'd lose a lot less sleep at night. The man is some kind of social genius. Everyone loves him, loves who he is, and he cares about everyone on the planet in return. Even a rundown, bitter whore of a guy like me. He still acts like there's hope for me. Maybe there is, I don't know anymore. I'm too far gone to care about anything except him.

It's not like I'd never thought about killing myself before I got into bad relationships. I did. But I never seriously thought out ways to do it until then. The idea is almost with me. I'm so pathetic, no one would even notice if I dropped off the face of the Earth. I've considered it. Different methods, different places. I could leave my Pokemon at a Center, run off and just rid the world of me like Lance said I should've when we broke up. In truth the idea is absolute bliss. It would be wonderful to let myself slip up on a rock by a river and accidentally drown. So many places I've seen travelling would be perfect. I want to die, so badly, but...

But then _he_ pops into my mind and I stop myself, get my insanity back into check. I remember who I am. I'm an icy cold bastard who hates everyone, not myself. I calm down, I breathe in, and I get the hell out of whatever place I'm in. I'll be okay as long as I can snap out of this in time. However, the fact that I'm relying on a guy who's not even my friend to be my motivation for existing doesn't go over well with the insane part of my mind. It's pathetic, it's stupid, and I love every second of it. I love how his babbling about love never seems to focus on appearance, just fairy tale 'lets get married'. I love how he's always looking for love, because it makes me feel like I have a chance. He keeps me looking forward to each day.

I can feel myself slipping. I can feel my depression getting worse lately. I keep thinking about suicide, and then I panic as if I've lost it. In my panic, I insult the hell out of everyone around me. Ash, Dawn, Pikachu, Team Rocket, all of them. It makes me feel good to see them have no comebacks. It makes me calm and happy inside for a minute or two. Then everything rushes back in and I hate myself all over again. It's pathetic. I hate this. I hate myself. I hate them. I hate people in general. I hate my Pokemon. This is all I am, at the end of the day, all that's left under the layers of my badass attitude and cool indifference. All I am is hate. They say depression is hate turned inward, and that's what I feel every night, every morning, every time something doesn't go my way in life. My mind swirls and all I can think of is throwing myself off a cliff somewhere.

Or letting myself freeze to death, which is what I'm trying now. I love the mountains around Snowpoint. Nice and secluded, so that I can finally be kept away from people. It's where I belong. My pokemon are all safe and sound in Snowpoint, in the Pokemon Center. When they find my body they'll probably give my pokemon to Ash. He'll hug them or something, I'm sure. He'll hug them, Dawn will say 'it's about time Paul died!' and everyone will cheer. Finally, they can all get on with their lives. I don't whether to laugh or cry, to feel total self loathing or peace. My mind goes fifty different directions even in death. I'm nothing if not consistant, I suppose...

"Paul!" I hear a voice calling me, and _not_ from the other side. I go as still as possible. "Paul, are you out there?"

What on Earth is he doing out here looking for me? It's freezing. He should know better than to even try and find someone in a snowstorm. He wouldn't see me if he was on top of me, in this weather. The thought is reassuring to my frozen mind. He can't find me now. Between the wind drowning out his voice and me being coated white, there's no way he'll-

"Paul!" And he scoops me up in his arms like I weigh nothing at all. "Paul, I knew you were out here! Don't worry, you're safe now."

His voice is calm and warm, but I glare at him anyway. He's ruining it all. "I didn't ask to rescued. Why are you even out here?"

"What do you mean, why am I out here? I came to make sure you were okay, after what Ash said," he cringes. Ash's little 'go kill yourself' comment had made even Dawn go wide eyed. I wasn't suprised, though, I always bring out the worst in people. "Paul, what are you doing out here without your coat?" Ah, the parental tone. One of Brock's most prominent assets in dealing with me.

"Taking Ash's advice," I admit, even though I know I shouldn't and he'll probably freak out on me. Then again, I just don't care anymore. A sadistic smirk works its way across my face. "Making it a jolly fucking Christmas for everyone."

A sharp intake of breath, and he holds me to him tighter. "Paul, that's... that's not the answer. Ash didn't mean that, he always blurts stuff out-"

"Everyone hates me," I retorted, rolling my eyes. "And I'm weak. It doesn't matter if I die."

"Yes it does!" he's angry now, righteous squinty-eyed serious-tone-of-voice angry. "A lot of people care about you!"

"Name one!" I snap back, tearing threatening to come to surface even as I fight them down. "Name ONE person would give a damn if-"

He kisses me. Hot lips on my icy ones snap me back to reality. I'm in the middle of nowhere, freezing cold and shaking. And I'm being held, held close against the warm body that is Brock. Cared for, loved, my brain starts to get working again. This plan was stupid. This whole attempt was a stupid idea. I am a stupid person in this moment. So why the hell am I smiling so much now that I'm being kissed? I feel so happy, warmed from head to toe.I lean into him, let him be that overbearing father type that he is. I trust him in this moment, I trust him completely with what's left of my sanity.

I shouldn't be, I should shove him away right now before he ruins me like all the other men did. Every person I put my faith in just used me. The rational part of me objects that Brock wouldn't hurt me, but the rational voice hasn't ruled in my mind for years. Weakly, I pull away from the kiss, heat lingering on my lips.

"This doesn't mean you get to fuck me," I told him, my old snappy irritated tone coming back into my voice. "I'm not a toy for you to play with."

"I know," Brock smiles back, and kisses me on the cheek as he starts to carry me back to Snowpoint, "I never thought you were."

"I _am_ pretty insane, though," I warn him. "Just so we're clear."

"Trust me, you're not all that insane. Now, my _family_, on the other hand..." And off he goes, bubbling away like a fountain of conversation.

I know I'm messed up. I know that I am way out of control. I know that I need a lot of help, and that I've probably got a lot of issues. Maybe a few mental disorders. Fuck if I know. I've done more than my fair share of damage to everyone around me, even if Brock thinks I'm innocent. I don't know why I'm not kicking his ass right now for turning me sentimental. I don't know why I'm not just telling him to fuck off. I don't even know why the hell I love this idiot in the first place.

Right now, I only know two things:

I've lost control of my insanity.

And Brock has gained control of me.


End file.
